


Cutting Corners

by fetts



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Creampie, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Dry Humping, Explicit Language, F/M, Hair-pulling, Praise Kink, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Squirting, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, fem!reader - Freeform, slight cockwarming, some humiliation, unintentional orgasm denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:08:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28235202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fetts/pseuds/fetts
Summary: Sitting on Din's lap to clean his armour isn't the best approach to the task. But, it is the most fun.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Reader, Din Djarin & You, Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You, The Mandalorian/Reader, The Mandalorian/You
Comments: 18
Kudos: 267





	Cutting Corners

**Author's Note:**

> Trying out this AO3 thing...be kind <3  
> 

“Din— _all_ of it needs to be _washed_ ,” you chuckle, watching him roughly rub a sopping wet piece of fabric over his left shoulder pauldron.

Krayt dragon innards smell _awful_. And they don’t come off easily either.

“It’ll do for now,” he says, collecting the remaining mucus and bile into the soiled cloth. “We have to go.”

He tosses the ruined material onto the small, durasteel table you sit at, itching to get to the cockpit and leave this dreadful planet.

You eye the rest of his protective layers as he swiftly moves about the hull, unconvinced that he’s seriously satisfied with his current cleanliness. It will definitely bother him once you make it to hyperspace — but when he’s in a rush, not much can grab his attention or change his mind.

Tatooine isn’t _that_ bad…

He hurriedly collects a few rogue and scattered items across the ships floor grating and places them where they belong — tidying the mess _you’ve_ made over the course of the day that he was gone _._

_Boredom creates curiosity._

“At least let _me_ get it off your helmet?” You try, hoping to get him to just _slow down_ and relax for a moment before you’re thrown into another mess on _another_ planet just as fast.

He turns his head in your direction slightly, _considering_. He sighs, suddenly offering your holopad to you. 

_Oh_. You thought you lost it when the Crest landed yesterday; falling off your bunk and assumed to never be seen again. 

“You can in the cockpit,” he counters, holding your gaze when you don’t respond right away.

From this angle, Din looks arguably... _bigger_. Broader. _Stronger_. The width of his shoulders blocking your entire line of vision. It makes your throat go dry.

“Okay...that’s fine.” You finally say, gently grabbing the cherished device from him before following him up to the pit. 

His _accessories_ — cape, ammo, beskar — rustle with each even step up the ladder, and you grab a misplaced piece of material as you pass into the cockpit. It’s one of your old, torn tunics from the last planet you took refuge on. 

Unsurprisingly, you can tell he’s tired _—_ _physically,_ at least. The way he all but falls into the pilots seat makes you sympathetic.

Din quickly flicks various switches, jabs some buttons, and then you’re out of the atmosphere and into hyperspace in an instant. You don't miss how he turns on the auto-pilot function.

Placing your holopad on the co-pilots seat, you bunch up the soft tunic in your hand and slide lightly onto his lap, straddling his thighs without looking for permission. He knew this is what you’d settle for.

He grunts at the weight displacement on his legs, instantly grabbing your hips and shifting you into a more comfortable position. 

You _try_ not to rest on his crotch — for _both_ of your sakes.

“We know how this will end,” he starts with confidence, a sliver of playfulness lies behind the ominous statement. It shocks you, but you keep your face composed. 

You shrug and dismiss it coolly. “I’m just trying to make you look presentable, _Mando_ ,” you tease, a small smile dancing along your lips.

“We’ll see.” He retorts. You don't respond, making quick work of _your_ idea and dragging the ball of fabric over the crown of his helmet.

You do a slow first pass, and the thick goo doesn’t seem to want to part with the shiny beskar peacefully. You don't blame it.

Din keeps completely still, letting his hands rest on your hips, patiently letting you rid him of all mucus. You have a feeling he’s watching you, but you have no evidence other than the hard lines of his visor purposefully keeping straight for your task at hand. 

He has a way of making you _uneasy_ — in a good way — without actually doing or saying anything. It often results in you quivering against a wall or the floor…and occasionally the ‘fresher. That’s only if you’re _extremely_ lucky.

The firm, rigid plating on his thighs makes you shuffle your knees and body forward, closer to his chest, in hopes to avoid its numbing effects on your ass.

You softly cradle the helmet in one hand, letting your other make a final glide down to where the visor lays. You think you got most of it. 

“I think that’s good for now,” you observe, tossing the tunic on the ground carefully and tilting your body from side-to-side to get a final look at the entirety of the now almost-reflective beskar.

It’ll still need a whole _rinse_ just to break down the thin film that’s now dried overtop.

You settle back onto his lap, and you feel _him —_ more prominently than before. Most of the time, it seems inevitable.

You suck in a breath, and he squeezes your hips harshly when you settle on his hardening cock completely.

“Told you,” you can hear the smirk in his voice, and he firmly pushes his hips up into yours to drive his achievement home further. 

You release the heavy sigh you were holding, your hands settling in his cowl as you let him drag your clothed cunt over him experimentally.

“I feel like you _wanted_ this to happen…” You say suspiciously, letting your curious eyes bore into the impenetrable visor that stares right back.

“It’s just— it’s been _a while_.” His modulated tone is desperate, giving another rough pull of your hips forward, and you moan — forgetting your skeptical thoughts. 

He was right. He’s been too busy to concern himself with something other than the dragon and getting off this rock.

Din watches you intently, his own breaths getting heavier as you start to move yourself. Your clit rubs perfectly over the smooth bump of his straining cock — your cunt aching from desire and emptiness the faster he makes you grind on him.

Your bodies grow _hot_. His gloved hands come to grip your ass tightly, encouraging you to drag over the _entirety_ of him.

The ridge of his zipper seam drags along your nub comfortably, making it easier to focus your movements. 

You continue to rut against his equally needy cock mindlessly, eyes falling shut as your forehead rests gently against his helmet in hindering pleasure. Your increasingly forceful strokes make him whimper quietly — only being able to give him enough to make him leak from the teasing stimulation — not enough to make him cum.

Your thighs burn while your cunt contracts around nothing, shamelessly growing wetter from the way the shape of him rubs against you. 

“Good girl,” he praises reassuringly when your body falters on a pull forward, making you let out a displeased sound as you lose your rhythm slightly.

Your cunt fills with a steady, tingling throb from the sudden denial, your thighs starting to tremble as you try to build back up to the release you didn’t know you wanted so badly. 

“ _Din._ ” You whine — immediately unsure _why_ you did so — but he responds to your plea.

“J-just keep going,” he instructs, joining with heavy breaths as you pant helplessly together.

He starts to roll his hips up into yours subtly, eagerly wanting to see you cum from nothing but him grinding into you. He pushes his aching cock harder against your clit when you start to whimper from the effort, and your cries slowly fade into tight huffs of exertion. 

His shoulders rise and fall rapidly under your hold, his mounting pleasure having no where to go besides maintain the consistent plateau that can’t seem to climb any higher from you rutting on him. 

_He needs to be inside you._ You know it. You can _feel_ it in his increasingly rigid muscles below you. It wouldn’t be fair to leave him chasing something that’ll never come while you take it all for yourself. 

“Mm, _fuck_ — D-Din—” You sputter, letting your hips come to a halt as you open your eyes again and catch your breath.

You let yourself rest atop him. He tilts his gaze to you, confused. “What’s wrong?”

His grip slides to your waist, his chest suddenly expanding with all the breaths he forgot to take.

You lean back onto his thighs. “ _Inside_ —” You whisper, bringing a hand from his cowl to your pants, and he does the same just as fast when he realizes what you mean.

You mindfully slip from his lap, trying to tug your pants the rest of the way down in front of him, but a smooth glove wraps around your bicep and pulls you back up — making you stand upright.

He stands before you, cock now hanging free and heavy. Your pants are only at your knees, making you wobble, but his hand keeps you steady.

“The control panel—” He starts, but seems to think about his next words carefully. 

“ _Bend over_ the control panel.” He corrects breathlessly, letting his helmet leer at you patiently. 

“O-okay,” you murmur.

You shuffle in his grip, turning to face the transparisteel and nav system. You try to avoid the switches and knobs as best as you can, finding minimal space to rest on your forearms without interfering with the pre-set controls.

But he doesn’t seem too worried about that.

You feel him step closer, his cock almost brushing the back of your thigh. He plants a hand in the middle of your back and pushes you down the rest of the way harshly. 

The position makes your back curve, your ass naturally coming to stick out further for him.

Some protruding switches poke at your chest as you settle, resting your head on your hands to avoid the cold durasteel on your cheek, and you hear him rustling behind you.

Aggressive fingers hook into the waist of your pants, quickly pulling them the rest of the way down your legs and over your ankles. His boot then wedges itself between your feet, kicking one of them out to the side to spread your legs further— _to open you up_. 

“That’s better,” he growls when he catches sight of your soaked core, _pleased_. 

His gazes burns, but it’s nothing compared to the warm, _bare_ hand that comes to rest just above your tailbone immediately after. 

The recycled air in the cockpit wisps around you as he moves, and it makes your cunt clench from the stark contrast.

“Ready?” His cock brushes your entrance, and it takes everything in you to not push back onto him.

You nod silently, not able to trust your voice.

A hand fiercely winds itself in your hair, jerking your head back as Din bends down to meet you halfway. The helmet feels like it cuts into your cheek from how cold it is compared to your skin.

“I couldn’t hear you, sweet girl,” he says viciously, seeming to slowly fall into the role he likes to fill when he’s hungry for relief. 

You groan. “Y-yes… _please_.” You choke out.

He let’s your hair go, and your head snaps back forward. “Use your _words_. Consider that a warning.”

Your knees start to shake when the hand returns back to your tailbone for a moment — holding you steady.

A finger slides through your folds, and you lurch forward as far as you can with his hand keeping you in place. And then another joins it; swirling around in your slick briefly, teasing your hole and then slipping toward your clit.

Your heart hammers in your chest, trying to suppress the moans already forming in your throat. 

But then he slips the two fingers in, and you mewl; squeezing and pulling them deeper into you immediately.

He groans lowly in his throat, content with how you respond.

You’re embarrassingly wet considering what you’ve done so far. You take his fingers too easily, and his cock jumps when he hears your arousal building around his digits the more he pumps them into you. He stretches you just enough to make more wetness flow involuntarily. 

You bite down on your finger, ashamed of how quickly your body becomes compliant to his physical commands.

He scissors his fingers as he pulls them out slowly, watching how your slick clings between and around them. Plentiful and _warm_. 

He drags the fingers along his cock, coating it with _you_ , stroking himself a few times as he examines your fluttering hole — waiting to be filled and ruined.

“Tell me how you want it,” 

Your gaze lifts to the blue and white swirl of hyperspace, surprised that he would ask.

You turn your head to the side, your voice barely a whisper. “Any way you want.” 

You’d take _anything_ he gave you. He’s considerate to ask.

“Stay still.” 

The blunt head of his cock pushes against you, and you push back in desperation, letting it slip in carefully. The stretch makes your eyes flutter. He watches you swallow him, inch by inch, and you almost fall limp against the control panel in relief.

When he reaches his end, he shifts on his feet, getting himself comfortable with the position.

“Such a _pretty thing_ …” He says as he pulls out slowly, paying close attention to how _well_ you hug him, and how his cock is already glistening with your wetness from just one stroke.

You whine in response, just wanting him to satisfy the throbbing in your needy cunt that gets more unbearable by the second.

Both of his hands rest on your hips, and he rocks into you a few times, working you open further methodically — just to tease. His hips bump the backs of your thighs with each thrust, and you gasp with each light impact the beskar makes.

His pace builds quickly when he feels you clench around him repeatedly, and it knocks the wind out of you when he adjusts your position.

His height over you allows him to angle himself so that he can drive his cock more _downwards_ into you, so he tightly presses you flat against the panel in consequence as your spine is bent to accommodate the shift.

“A- _ah_ , sh-i-it, _M-mando_ —” You cry, the head of his cock grazes your g-spot perfectly like this, his hands on your back keep you immobile as he begins to _truly_ fuck your messy cunt relentlessly.

“ _Yeah…_ I know _exactly_ what you like—” He grunts. “You like to be fucked until you’re fucking _shaking_ ,” he continues, accentuating each point with a violent thrust that makes you see stars in your vision.

And in turn, your thighs begin to spasm. _Involuntarily_. Just like _that_.

A helpless moan slips from your throat, and you can feel yourself begin to leak — he forces fluids from you each time he plunges back in, creating a slippery mess down your thighs and slit as he fucks you into the panel.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? You fucking _love it_.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t a speculation either. 

“I d-do,” you confess to please him, anyway.

He buries himself to the base, not wanting to withhold anything, and it feels like your cunt is _on fire_.

“… _Mando_?” 

“Not yet.” He _knows_. It’s the way your tone shifts from airy and tight to borderline _incoherent_ and whiny.

There’s a burning pressure in your abdomen that shoots all the way down your legs, making the muscles in your thighs contract to try to off-set your impending orgasm.

You groan, and he slows; alleviating the pressure on your back by removing his hands entirely. Panic sears through you. 

_No, no, no_ —

You go to look over your shoulder and question him, but your head is quickly thrown forward again when he hooks an arm under and around your ribs. 

He pulls you up tightly against him, keeping his cock seated in you as he yanks you upright, and he mindfully falls back into the pilots seat — pulling you down along with him. 

He slouches against the chair, and you slouch against his cuirass. Your sliding weight pushes his cock further into you, and your legs dangle over his thighs — feet not even touching the floor. 

Your head comes to rest on his shoulder, hands gripping the armrests, and you feel the way your cunt leaks around him from the inclination. You shudder, unknowingly clenching around him as he shifts under you.

“I want you to soak me— you think you can do that?” He challenges, slipping his hands around to where your knees bend and pulling them up towards you as leverage. 

He knows you _can do that_. Easily. Nothing else ever comes from being in this position. 

“ _Yeah_ …” You whisper, your head knocking against the side of his helmet as he fidgets under you.

“ _Good girl_.”

The curve of his cock presses forcefully against your walls, and he slowly rolls his hips back, letting his skillful length withdraw from you.

He gives a sudden, forceful push, filling you up until your back arches against him with a satisfied moan. The hands behind your knees keep you from slipping too far down, letting him freely slide in and out of you without hinderance as you stay pinned against his chest. 

His boots are planted on the floor, using them to get more power behind his thrusts as he drives into you. His cock pierces your center, rutting against the spot that makes you drip and convulse.

Din moans when he feels your core tremble. A wonderful pressure forms on top of your already approaching orgasm — something that makes you feel incapacitated with stimulation and oncoming relief. 

“Oh, s- _shit_ , _Din_ —” You whimper, your cunt tightening around him as your chest heaves from the mind-numbing sensation building between your legs.

He tugs harshly on the backs of your knees, almost making you bounce on him — letting his aching cock hit you so deep that a tear slips from your bleary eyes.

“Cum.” He demands. “ _Now_.”

You gasp, letting the strained muscles in your core relax as you finally let the pleasure engulf you. Your eyes squeeze shut, your jaw locks, and your cunt gushes — juices rush from you, some of it hitting the control panel as Din fucks you through it, trying to fight how tightly you’ve clamped onto him.

“F-fuck. _Perfect_ ,” he praises as you’re blinded by the aftershocks.

Din doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow his pace. He chases his climax through your own; your cum drowning him, running down his balls, and dripping onto the chair.

He gives in just seconds later — right before it becomes too much for you — forcing his cock as far as it can go into your spasming heat with a breathy groan, emptying his hot cum deep inside your stretched hole as he tenses.

You let him fill you, let him grind into you to ride it out. 

His hands release your knees gently, letting your legs fall and rest back over his thighs. You stay with him inside you for a moment, trying to even out your breathing and let the feeling return to your toes before you try to move.

His breaths are static next to your ear, and you can feel his thighs quiver every so often as his cock softens between your walls.

“I’ll wash it tomorrow.” 

You smile and roll your eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: bxbafett  
> Please leave a comment if you had a good time! They bring me so much joy :)


End file.
